


Frostflight

by macrauchenia



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Minor Character Romance, Mystery, Suspense, Team Dynamics, Will Update Characters Accordingly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macrauchenia/pseuds/macrauchenia
Summary: Dick goes missing after a disastrous mission and his remaining teammates struggle to move on. Ten years later, Dick wakes from a cryogenic prison to find that all his friends have grown up and Gotham has withered. Surrounded by people who now feel like strangers, Dick must solve the mystery of his own disappearance before the shadows return and steal everything else he loves.[Post-S1 AU] [Bat-family and S1 team centric]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been sitting on this idea since 2012 when Season 2 first aired. I bundled it away and never looked back until they announced Season 3 of YJ (!). There is a heavy emphasis on the Batfamily, but major characters will be introduced with enough background if you're not up to speed on all the bat kiddos.
> 
> Lastly, this is an AU that starts right after the events of Season 1. Many events that occur in Season 2 will still happen in the background and will be referenced by characters. As we go along, I may have to adjust for season 3 events (and S3 characterizations, since writing several "newer" characters like Steph and Cissie were based on their comic personalities). Feel free to ask if you have any questions!
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

* * *

It was supposed to be like any other mission. An easy-peasy, dig-up-the-dirt-on-the-baddie kind of mission. One that was a bit too simple for the League, but too difficult for local police to collaborate across jurisdictions.

It's what Wally West liked to call "junior justice grunt work" (though he wasn't complaining, because any excuse to get out of training was fine in his book).

Batman had been the one to brief them, flipping through images of stolen medical technology on the holoscreen, citing how each had been taken without a trace. Wally nodded along— _sure, sure, find the stolen tech_ —while his gaze kept straying back towards his female teammates.

 _It's been so hot. We should_ definitely _go to the beach after this._

Wally shifted, feeling the slick of sweat as it dribbled down the lycra lining of his suit.

_So hot._

"Any questions?"

Wally snapped his attention back to the Bat and shook his head. He had caught the important parts: stuff was stolen and they had to get it back. Besides, they'd be in Central City. He knew his hometown like the treads of his sneakers. He missed a few of the details but he shrugged it off. He wasn't much for the  _detective_  part of the job—just point him at a bad guy and he'd do his thing. As long as Robin and Kaldur knew what to do and where to go, they'd be  _fine_.

"Good luck. Report back when you have more information."

* * *

Wally planted his hands on his hip and frowned at the carnage in front of him. Shreds of cardboard and splintered crates littered the ground. A few frayed cords and scraps of metal sheeting were sprinkled amongst the wreckage. It didn't take an ace detective to know that something valuable had been taken.

"Seriously? What was Bats saying about 'not leaving a trace?'"

Artemis crossed her arms, an eyebrow lifting in mock surprise. "Oh, so you  _were_  paying attention? I thought you were too busy gawking like a creep at Megan."

"I'm pretty good at multitasking," he offered with a wink.

Robin, who had drawn the unlucky straw of being the third wheel, groaned as he straightened up from a crouch.

"This isn't like the other scenes. Something different happened here."

Artemis frowned, scuffing a boot against one of the larger crate pieces. "Maybe this isn't the same group. I mean, stealing high dollar tech isn't exactly a groundbreaking idea."

Robin pursed his lips as he skirted around a puddle of water. "No… I think it might be the same group." His fingers flew across his wrist as he plunked in information in the computer. "The other crime scenes weren't as," he paused, " _messy_ , but they still have the same things in common. It just looks like something got in their way this time around."

Wally's eyes landed on one of the discarded metal sheets, noting the four parallel gorges ripped out, as if someone had literally pried the metal off the main machine.

"You don't say."

"And then there's this puddle of water."

"It's an old warehouse, Rob. It'd be more suspicious if there  _wasn't_  some sign of weather damage."

Robin carried on, seemingly oblivious to Wally's nervous chuckle. "Puddles of water were found at the other spots too with no apparent source. That's how Batman figured out they were connected." He frowned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Water…medical tech…super strength..." He brushed away a bead of sweat along his forehead with the back of his hand.

With a sharp gasp, Robin spun back towards Artemis and Kid Flash. "I know who's behind this!"

Artemis narrowed her eyes as she notched an arrow, aiming for over Robin's shoulder. "Yeah, and I think he's right behind  _you_."

* * *

_Aqualad! M'gann! Superboy! Someone!_

M'gann stopped midflight, wincing as she brought a palm to her pulsing temple.

_Wally? What's wrong? You sound—is everything okay?!_

_No—argh!_ Artemis's voice cut into the conversation. M'gann winced again at the jarring emotions flooding her telepathic link.  _It was Mr. Freeze—he found us. Kid Flash and I are…down, but Robin ran after him. We tried to stop him but—_

Kaldur, who had been listening with furrowed brow, finally entered the conversation.  _Miss Martian, you and Superboy find Robin and help him with apprehending Mr. Freeze. I will assist Kid Flash and Artemis and we'll find a place to rendezvous._

Conner nodded before leaping, smashing through the concrete ceiling without hesitation. M'gann floated after him, calling for Robin's location in her mind. Kaldur watched them before racing back towards Kid Flash's and Artemis's last known location.

"Hey, K-kaldur," Artemis offered a weak smile when he clambered over one of the destroyed pieces of equipment blocking the door. Wally spared a quick grunt, focusing his energy on helping Artemis. He held a vibrating hand to the thick layer of ice coating the right side of Artemis's torso and arm, trying to generate enough heat to melt the ice without accidentally tearing the limb off.

"What happened?"

Artemis winced as the ice crackled under Wally's touch. "Fff-freeze found us," she repeated, shivering. Her exposed core shuddered and clenched as she tried to fight the tremors wracking her body. "I tried to shoot, but he h-h-hit me with that fff-freaking freeze gun."

"Robin ran after him before we could stop him. I couldn't go after him—have to get this off her before it's too late." Wally added, keeping his gaze lowered. "I don't know how much longer it'll take to melt."

"Here, let me try." Kaldur knelt next to Wally, placing a hand on the ice while tucking his other hand behind his back. He closed his eyes and murmured a word in Atlantean, forehead wrinkling as he concentrated. The tattoos wrapping around his arms pulsed a vibrant teal before the ice enveloping Artemis's torso melted in a slush of water.

"Th-thanks," Artemis gasped, gingerly rotating her damp shoulder. "G-god, that was c-cold. Next mission r-remind me to pack a sw-sweater."

Wally hovered over her, poking and prodding at the reddened, ice-burned skin. She swatted him away and he disappeared before reappearing with a tattered comforter, a clothespin still attached. He wrapped it around her shoulders before zipping back to Kaldur's side.

"Thanks, you two." She grinned before reaching for her bow with her left hand.

"Any permanent damage?"

"I'm counting the seconds to my next hot shower, but I should be fine."

Kaldur returned the smile, relieved that his idea had worked. "I am glad to hear that." He straightened up, pulling Artemis into a standing position.

Wally punched an exposed palm, making a satisfying  _smack_  as his fingers curled over his balled fist.

"Good, now let's go melt some snowmen."

* * *

_"What do you_ mean _you can't find him?!"_

"I—he's… I don't know…." M'gann tucked her arms closer to her chest and lowered her gaze from Wally.

"You're kidding right? He  _has_  to be here somewhere. Maybe he just got somehow kicked off our signal—"

"Wally," M'gann began in a soft voice. "He isn't here."

"You couldn't find  _anything?"_

Conner shouldered himself into the conversation, stepping between the two.

"She's right. There isn't another heartbeat. No one else is in the warehouse."

"Wait. What do you mean by heartbeat? Are you saying that he cou—"

Kaldur pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath in to clear his churning nerves.  _Wally and M'ga—no,_ we _are all starting to get anxious. Worrying about this won't help anyone._

"Robin knows more about this villain than we do," he started hesitantly. "Perhaps Robin left the warehouse in pursuit of Freeze."

Kaldur's words did little to placate most of the team, but Wally grabbed onto the explanation with an eager nod. "Yeah, that would explain it. He's probably out of range of Miss M's signal."

"I don't think that's the way it works..." Artemis murmured, hating the pragmatic neutrality to her tone.

Wally pretended not to hear her. Instead he shook his head with a forced smile. "I'm sure Rob will turn up in no time. We won't hear the end of it—how he singlehandedly took down that walking icebox."

* * *

Several hours passed and the remaining team members waited with bated breath for anything—a phone call, a reprimand from Batman, a cheery cackle. However, nothing came. Even as the small search team milled around the thirty-mile radius of the abandoned warehouse, no one could find any more evidence regarding the whereabouts of the missing Boy Wonder.

(Wally was looking for his best friend, alive and well; Conner and Artemis were looking for something more realistic. Miss Martian and Kaldur were stranded in between, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.)

As a distant siren wailed in the background, the remaining team members regrouped at the warehouse bay, drained and defeated.

"'Not leaving a trace,' huh? So Batman was right after all." Wally allowed himself a bitter laugh as the sun began to dip below the skyscraper-dotted horizon.

Residually stiff and sore from her near-freezing, with the tattered comforter still wrapped around her shoulders, Artemis leaned towards Wally, brushing the worn fabric against his hard shoulder pads.

"Hey, we'll find him, okay? He couldn't have gone too far."

Kaldur glanced from Conner, glaring at the overturned wreckage, to M'gann, slumped against one of the crates in exhaustion. In this state, they wouldn't be of any use to Robin.

"It's time for us to return to the Cave. There isn't anything more we can do here," he began slowly. He expected Wally to contest his decision, but he nodded with the rest of the team, gaze lowered and dull.

Kaldur swallowed and mashed his lips together. It was time to call Batman.

* * *

Batman took the news as Kaldur expected him to: stoically, impassively. Other than the narrowing of the white eyelets in his cowl, Batman didn't react until Kaldur had finished relaying the results of the mission and their fruitless search for their missing team member.

Batman only offered an icy "you should have contacted me sooner," before sweeping out of the room, his cape brushing against the floor with a soft  _hiss_  as he turned.

Kaldur didn't even manage to clear his throat (for an apology? an explanation?) before Batman disappeared via zeta tube. He slumped his shoulders before trudging back into the silent living room.

What were they hoping to prove? That  _they_  could find Robin sooner than the World's Greatest Detective? Kaldur's ears burned and he gingerly rubbed them, blaming their extended exposure to the sun as the cause.

They should have told Batman sooner, but it didn't matter. He would still find Robin and then everything would be okay in the end.

_(Right?)_

* * *

Two weeks passed and Wally had become downright unbearable. Even the others were starting to become aggravated at his tendency to appear and disappear with dizzying frequency.

"Would you just sit  _still?"_  Artemis had been the first to snap, shoving Wally into the nearest seat when he appeared a few millimeters from her elbow.

"I can't help it!" Wally argued back, slouching further in the couch cushion. "We haven't been able to do  _anything_. They won't even let us near the…scene. And I  _live_  there!"

Since Robin's disappearance, Batman had pulled their team off any missions for the foreseeable future. Batman hadn't even deigned to deliver the order himself, presumably too busy tracking down his missing protégé. A shifty-eyed Captain Marvel had been the one to relay the message, which didn't inspire much confidence in the remaining team members, since he seemed as unsure and confused as they felt.

The team decided to exploit his uncertainty to their advantage to gain more information about the search for Robin. When they had asked their mentors and instructors earlier, they all received similarly dismissive placations with forced smiles. Only Green Arrow had provided an extra clue, when Conner overheard him complaining about a mission that Batman had "sat out on" to Black Canary.

When Captain Marvel returned to the Cave to check up on them as he did each week, they were ready. Immediately Wally and M'gann attacked him with a barrage of questions while the others watched cautiously from a distance.

"Oh…uhm…" Captain Marvel chuckled nervously at the first question. "Well….uh… We don't—er, Batman doesn't really tell us much."

"But surely you must know  _something_ ," Wally insisted, taking an eager step forward. Captain Marvel hastily retreated backwards, finding himself closer to a sour-tempered Superboy.

"Superman's your leader, right? Go ask him."

"Well, actually…"

"Hasn't my uncle assisted too? His powers are suited for finding people. He should know more about it as well."

"Yeah! And Uncle Barry  _has_  to be in on this too! Robin disappeared in Central City! That's kind of like his turf."

Captain Marvel slapped his cheeks, the sound ricocheting around the room like a gunshot. The team fell silent, eyeing him warily.

"Okay, liiiisten. I  _promised_  them I wouldn't say anything, but this is driving me  _crazy!"_  He squinted at them, puckering his lips in a very  _un_ dignified manner.

"You can't tell them I told you this— _pinky_ swear _—_ but no one knows what Batman's doing anymore. He's—well, I think he's taking a break from the League. He hasn't been up in the Watchtower since Robin disappeared." He leaned forward, eyebrows jumping upwards. "Apparently, Superman's the only one who still talks to him, but even he says he doesn't know anything."

Wally's shoulders slumped at the news. He almost regretted asking. If Batman had stepped so far back from the others, that could only mean the worst had happened.

"Are the others still looking?"

"Yeah, I think they are. We can't do much though, because uhm…"

"But what?"

Captain Marvel hesitated before glancing over his shoulder. "Apparently, Batman closed Gotham."

"Closed Gotham?" Artemis blinked, startled by the choice of words. Last she checked, her neighborhood was still as crappy as ever, but nothing had changed in the city itself. The bat-signal still glowed against the cloud-streaked dusk sky, still the same old nightlight for as long as she could remember.

"Closed Gotham to the other superheroes," Captain Marvel amended. "I guess he doesn't want anyone's help anymore."

"How can he d—"

"That isn't po—"

"But wha—"

"Aww, man, you guys…" Captain Marvel broke off, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. "I think I've said too much. I can't keep this up anymore." His face scrunched up and he looked genuinely upset before backing away, practically jogging away from the teenagers.

Artemis watched him flee with a hoisted eyebrow. "We just tried to interrogate a ten-year-old. What low will we sink to next?"

"Whatever we must," Kaldur finished with a firm nod.

* * *

Black Canary came during the third week. She silenced their questions with a firm slice of her hand.

"Batman will no longer be giving you missions."

M'gann hesitantly raised her hand, waiting for Black Canary to glance her way before voicing her question.

"Does that mean… does that mean that the team is done?"

Black Canary sighed before shaking her head. "No, the team isn't done. If you feel up to it, the League has a new mission for you."

Slowly the remaining team members nodded. It was the first step towards normalcy. They were heroes, after all. It was what they did, damn the consequences.

The corners of Black Canary's eyes creased, but she pulled up the mission parameters on the holoscreen, disregarding whatever comment remained trapped on her tongue.

"Very well. According to satellite photos," Black Canary began, preparing her students for a mission she wished they would abandon.

_What are we doing? They're still children. We shouldn't be sending them off again so soon._

* * *

"That was Master Richard's school that just called. They would like to know where he's been."

"I've searched everywhere, Alfred."

"I know, sir. We all have."

"The trackers on his uniform—try that again."

"I'm afraid we've tried that already."

"Then the nanomite injection? I know I said I wouldn't ever use them because they were unstable, but this is an emergency. They're find him even…even if he's already go—"

"We activated those two weeks ago. They didn't work either, sir."

"I've searched everywhere, Alfred," Bruce repeated, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. His cowl lay a few feet away, still damp from hours spent shielding Batman's face during another lonely, rainy vigil.

"I don't know where he is."

(How many times had he murmured the phrase to an empty cave, long after Alfred had retired for the night?)

"What should I tell the school?"

"Maybe if I go after Freeze's old partn—"

 _"Master Bruce!_ "

"He hasn't been seen since the warehouse, but they have to know where Freeze is holding out."

Alfred sighed before shaking his head. He slowly climbed back up the Batcave steps, feeling his bones creak with each step.

(When had he gotten so old?)

"I apologize for the wait, madam. Mr. Wayne was…a bit indisposed. Master Richard is currently visiting family in Bosnia." A pause. "Mmmhmm, yes indeed. September is a poor time for a trip, but he was adamant about going." Another pause. "When will he return?" Alfred's gaze strayed towards a photograph of wide smiles and a basketball.

"Hopefully soon."

* * *

A month after Robin's disappearance, the  _Gotham Gazette_  ran an article about the missing ward of a billionaire, a boy who vanished after a trip to Sarajevo. No ransoms were made; no charges were filed. The Wayne family gave a touching performance, begging for their son's return, no questions asked. Tabloids ran wild with speculations of kidnapping and murder, but soon even the gossip dried up when the tragedy of the rich no longer entertained the masses.

Three years later, when the  _Gotham Gazette_  published another article about the same billionaire adopting a feisty young orphan, Richard Grayson was barely more than an endnote.

Four years after Robin's disappearance, a replacement surfaced. Angrier, younger, harsher, but a Robin reborn nonetheless. With his return came a darker Gotham, a darker Batman. Several other partners followed in his footsteps, all dressed in darker colors and bearing darker expressions as they waged war against the darker streets.

An endless night had swept over Batman's city.

Only a handful of citizens—ones who were too stubborn to pack up and leave this new Gotham—remembered the first Robin, the one who quipped as he flipped. The Icarus to the Batman's crusade.

Ten years after his disappearance, Richard Grayson became the name that Gotham forgot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully this piqued your interest!
> 
> I only have about half (ten chapters) written so far, but I wanted to start posting this now, since I'm afraid that some predictions might actually come true in S3 and I wanna see if I can beat the writers to the punch. Alternatively, I could be completely off and this might be a fun (?), Batfamily-centric side story that's unrelated to everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I've been holding off on writing this and the next chapter (why? who knows), but I have chaps 4 through 10 already finished, so we'll get back to regularly scheduled updates soon!
> 
> As you'll see, this and the next chapter will focus on introducing the Batfam characters and how they developed without Dick/in Dick's shadow. Some things may differ from what you're used to. Let me know if you have any questions! Hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

Bruce's first thought was that he was seeing a ghost, hunched over the Batmobile with a tire iron in hand.

However, once his chest muscles loosened and he got a better look at the boy, he realized that his tousled hair wasn't quite black—really, more of a dark brown—and the darkness rimming his blazing eyes was from a smudge of Batmobile grease rather than a domino mask. With another shake of the head, Dick's ghost faded away, leaving Bruce alone in the alleyway with a glaring teenager.

Now that the situation had shifted towards the mundane—this kid wasn't the first to try to rip parts off the Batmobile—Bruce was certain he could handle it.

(It didn't stop the aching though. Not completely. The boy still bore such a startling resemblance to Dick that it made it hard for Bruce to take his barred teeth seriously.)

"What's the big idea, bolting your lug nuts on so tight?" he demanded before Bruce could speak. "It's already hard enough to haul tires without all the extra work."

Safely hidden by his cowl, Bruce hoisted an eyebrow in mild surprise. He wasn't quite amused since the boy had already managed to take off two tires, but he wasn't angry either.

"The idea is to stop people from stealing my tires." Bruce tilted his head as he studied the boy a little closer.

"You wouldn't miss it," the boy said, side-eyeing the titanium paneling of the Batmobile with a sneer. "The tires are probably the cheapest part about this ride."

_He can't be much older than Dick. Fourteen, fifteen at the oldest._

"What's your name?" He tried to lighten his voice to sound more like Bruce Wayne and less like Batman. He was surprised when it took more of an effort than he expected.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Bet it would make it a helluva lot easier to lock me up in the nearest juvie center."

"No," Bruce countered, keeping his tone level. He wondered when his voice had gotten so gravelly in the first place. "It would make it easier to help you."

The boy narrowed his eyes, grip tightening around the tire iron. "I don't need help from the  _Batman_."

Bruce paused, considering the boy's patched-up knees and his stained jacket. "Then maybe you can accept help from Bruce Wayne."

"Right," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Like that rich son of a bitch would ever help out someone like me. Never knew the Bat had a sense of humor."

Bruce strode towards the Batmobile, causing the kid to take a few quick, reflexive steps backwards.

_Maybe there's some sense under all that bluster,_  Bruce mused. "Go talk to Leslie Thompkins and find out yourself. Do you know who she is?"

The kid eyed Bruce for a moment, perhaps searching for a trap or hidden message, before nodding. "Yeah, I heard of her. She runs a clinic close by."

"Good." Bruce felt his lips slacken into a grim smile. It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation and it seemed to throw them both off, because the kid immediately wiped his expression clear. Bruce turned back to the Batmobile when another thought occurred to him.

"And stay away from tire irons."

"Pfft. Whatever, old man."

* * *

"You look good, Bruce." A pause. "How are you?"

"It's been a while. Three years, right?" Bruce responded with a nod. Clark noticed that he didn't answer the question, but he knew better than to push.

"It doesn't have to be this way, you know. Meeting through interviews and public appearances. You're always welcome to come to the Watc—"

"We shouldn't get off topic. You said the Daily Planet wanted an article about my latest fundraiser? Strange for Metropolis to get involved in Gotham's business."

_Typical Bruce. Changing the subject whenever he wants._ Clark would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been afraid of being caught mid-act by nearby paparazzi.

(He could see the tabloid headline now: "Metropolis reporter acting above his paygrade? Rolls eyes at billionaire, Bruce Wayne, during interview!")

(Lois would be  _furious_  with him. _)_

"You're in the same tax bracket as  _Luthor_ , Bruce.  _Of course_  people are going to be curious about what you're doing." Clark paused, weighing his next words before speaking. "Especially considering what you did a few months ago."

Bruce leaned back in his chair. "You mean taking in Jason?"

Clark nodded.

"He's a good kid. Bright."

"I'm glad to hear that. But you know… you aren't the only thing in Gotham people are talking about. Everyone's talking about  _him._ They want to know who he is, if he's the same Robin or- _"_

"That would defeat the purpose of a secret identity, wouldn't it?" Bruce's expression remained infallibly polite, but there was an underlying glint in his gaze.

Clark lowered his eyes with a sigh; he was getting nowhere with Bruce. He stared at his coffee before tipping cream into the mug. It felt like an eternity had passed since they were last here in this diner, Bruce giving  _him_  advice about raising a child. Had he been this stubborn then?

"The League doesn't blame you—or anyone—for what happened to Dick," Clark began softly. "We're wo—we don't want anything to happen to you. Or to him. We just want you to be careful."

Bruce fell silent and Clark resumed stirring until the dark coffee became a pale, milky tan color.

"I remember hearing that you and Lois were expecting a child. Did everything happen as planned?"

"Ah, yes, it did. We had a boy. Lois wanted it to be a surprise, but I couldn't resist a peek—" Clark smiled reflexively, thinking back to the gurgles and sloppy goodbye kisses from that morning. "Jon's two now. He's got Conner wrapped around his pudgy finger." Another second passed before he realized that maybe he shouldn't be babbling about his family in front of Bruce, so he buried his smile in his coffee mug.

"I'm happy for you," Bruce said and when Clark lowered his coffee cup back to the table, he could almost see the old Bruce smiling back at him. Emboldened, Clark opened his mouth to ask about Jason, but Bruce cleared this throat and the opportunity vanished.

"We should get on with this interview. I'm sure you're a very busy man."

Clark sighed. "Of course."

* * *

It was his fourth night decked out in all his Robin gear glory and he already had a stalker. He first noticed it out of the corner of his eye, a flutter of black and gold when he turned his back. Whoever it was grew bolder throughout Jason's first month, coming closer each night, and once he even caught a flash of long red hair when he spun around quickly enough to catch them fleeing.

The next night, Jason was ready, pouncing on his stalker before they could run away again. However, the moment he tightened his grip around their cape, he was bodily thrown to the ground in an impressive shoulder roll.

He blinked at the smoggy Gotham sky, momentarily stunned as he struggled to catch his breath. His attacker loomed in his immediate field of vision, squinting at him as her red hair fell into his face and tickled his nose.

"You aren't him," she said, settling back into a seated position with a disappointed sigh.

_The hell? B never said anything about crazy fangirls chasing after me._

Now no longer straddled by some girl in a bat mask, Jason sat up, crossing his legs and tilting his head as he studied the girl in front of him.

_She's wearing a bat symbol on her chest? Does she know Bruce?_ His eyes dropped down to her tattered cape and worn out combat boots.  _No, probably not._

"I'm not who?"

The girl looked back at him, her lips drawing into a wry frown. "Seriously? Aren't you supposed to be a detective or something? I'm talking about Robin, of course."

Jason scowled, not sure if he was more insulted by her insinuation that he was oblivious or not a real Robin. "Listen up, Batbabe. I'm the real deal." He punctuated the sentence with a jerked thumb towards his Robin crest. "I work with Batman and everything."

The girl seemed not to hear him. "It was stupid of me to think he was still alive after all this time. I couldn't help it though when I saw the news report." She shook her head with another sigh.

Jason perked up as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a second—how did you know I wasn't, uh, the first Robin?" He knew from old photographs that he looked a little like Grayson. Enough, he believed, to fool the average Gothamite with a fancy smartphone.

The girl considered this with a soft hum under her breath. "You just feel different… not as cheerful, maybe. And you're a little taller, I think. Plus, your voice is definitely deeper."

_Not as cheerful? What does that mean?_

"Hold up though. You're saying you actually knew the first Robin? You knew who he was? Like, his civilian identity too?"

_Shit… does that mean she knows who Batman is? Does she know who I am?_

The girl blinked at him. "We were… friends. Classmates."

"Really? That's how you knew him? I was expecting you to say you attacked him in the freight yards or something. Figured that's how you like to introduce yourself."

She laughed and shook her head. "No, nothing that dramatic. I only tackle creeps who try and grab my cape without asking."

Jason smiled at her and she returned the expression. He waited a few moments before starting a new conversation.

"I never met the first one. Not in person, I mean. But everyone seems to have a pretty high opinion of him. Was he really that good of a guy?"

Her grin faded to a soft smile and she nodded.

Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I figured as much."

The girl looked back at him, scanning over his uniform before her gaze jumped back to his face.

"It's not Batbabe, by the way."

"Huh?"

"That's what you called me earlier. My actual name is Batgirl."

"That's what's written on your birth certificate? And I thought my parents hated me."

Batgirl made a face at him, nose wrinkling and lips puckered. "You'll get the rest of it when you earn it, bird boy."

* * *

"Please? One more?  _Please?"_

"Don't you have homework you should be doing, Master Jason? Perhaps your book report?"

"Aww, come on, Alfie. You know I finished that two days ago. B has been running me all around Gotham looking for some snitch, so you gotta give me  _something."_

Alfred turned away before Jason could see his resolute expression crack into a smile. He tried to cover it up with an exasperated sigh, before moving back to the kitchen table.

"I'll tell you another story, but you have to help me prepare dinner. We're having chicken and Hassleback potatoes."

Jason's eyes lit up. "Can I cut the—"

Before he could finish, Alfred shoved the sack of potatoes towards Jason along with a vegetable peeler. "You may not. Just because you can throw knives at targets does not mean you will handle them in my kitchen with the same abandon."

"Geez, move over, Bruce. There's a new hardass in the manor."

"Excuse me?" Alfred tried to sound affronted, but he couldn't fake his scowl for long.

"You know I'm kidding." Jason reached for the nearest potato and began peeling while Alfred busied himself by the cutting board. "Now, you promised to tell me a story and make it a good one!"

"Hmm, very well. How about the time Master Bruce nearly met his match at the hands of the Music Meister?"

"Maybe another day, Alfie. Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me something about the first Robin. Grayson."

Alfred's knife sliced through the chicken and struck the cutting board with a jarring  _thunk._  Jason glanced over with a frown, setting aside a skinned potato before reaching for another. He scuffed at a spot with a chewed down nail.

"It's just—B never talks about him, so I was curious." Jason shrugged and averted his gaze, glaring at the vegetable peeler. "Y'know what though? Forget I asked. It was a stupid idea." He cleared his throat. "Tell me about the Music Munster or whatever."

"It's alright, Master Jason. I don't mind." Alfred smiled down at the cutting board, momentarily lost in his reminiscing. "I'm grateful you asked. There haven't been many opportunities to talk about him without upsetting Master Bruce."

Jason shifted in his seat, waiting for Alfred to start.

"Have you ever heard the story about the first time Master Richard partnered with another sidekick? A young Wally West, but you might know him better as the first Kid Flash."

Jason shook his head, because of course he had never heard this story before.

(Who would have ever told him?)

* * *

After their last run in with the Joker, Jason spent the first two days unconscious and the next two weeks bedridden. Alfred visited him every day, always bringing fresh cookies and whispered stories. He hadn't seen Bruce since he carried him from the warehouse and away from the Joker's crowbar.

(He knew Bruce had been by his bed, but only while he slept. His blankets had been tucked around his chin far too messily to have been Alfred's handiwork.)

(He appreciated Bruce watching over him during the darkest parts of night, but he felt like he wouldn't be suffering through so many nightmares if he didn't feel so damn alone the rest of the time.)

Another month passed before Jason could walk without crutches. His first steps took him right to his suit, only to find that the display case had been sealed shut.

"Hey, Bruce. What's with the case?"

"It's sealed," Bruce said, not even looking up from his files.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can _see_  that. I'm asking why. Is Alfred ordering me a new suit or something?" Jason gently touched his ribcage and winced when it smarted. "Not gonna lie—after that last mission, I could definitely use some extra padding for a bit."

"That  _was_  your last mission."

"Ha, ha. Real  _funny_ , Bruce. You should leave the bad jokes to Nygma or the Joker."

"This isn't a joke and it's not debatable. You're through with being Robin."

Jason crossed his arms and turned towards Bruce, expression shifting to disbelief as he registered his words. "Wait, are you serious right now? You're benching me over this? Look, I know you're still pissed that I ran ahead, but we caught the creep, right? Everything turned out okay."

Jason glanced down at the cast surrounding his left ankle. "For the most part anyway. But give me another week or two and I'll be ready to go back out there."

"You  _aren't_  going out there again and that's final," Bruce repeated, his voice dropping lower. "Anything could have happened to you."

"Yeah, but it didn't! Because you found me—you got to me in time." Jason's voice rose and wavered with each word. He sounded pitchy to his own ears, especially compared to Bruce's rumbling baritone, but he didn't want to lose being Robin. He  _loved_  being Robin.

" _This_ time. But what if I had been too late? What if I lost you again?"

(When he awoke from his pain-killer delirium, Jason had asked Bruce how he found him. Bruce responded that he used injected trackers in his bloodstream. Jason had laughed, thinking Bruce was being melodramatic, but now he wasn't so sure anymore.)

"Lost me again? Bruce, what the hell are you talking about? I'm right  _here._ "

"We're not discussing this."

"Tell me why! Why can't I be Robin?"

_"I'm not losing you again, Dick!"_

He reared back as if he had been slapped, even though Bruce was on the opposite end of the Batcave. Jason blinked rapidly, adverting his gaze from the various costume display cases.

A moment passed before Bruce seemed to realize what he had said.

"I'm sorry."

" _Don't."_

"Jason, listen to me—" Bruce took a cautious step towards Jason.

"Ha!" The laugh was sharp and bitter and it tasted wrong in Jason's mouth. "Oh, so  _now_  you remember my name?" He glared at Bruce, daring him to come any closer. Bruce regarded him for a moment before turning back to his work with a shake of the head.

"This was a mistake. I shouldn't have taken on another partner. You weren't— _we_  weren't ready yet."

"A mistake, huh?" Jason swallowed thickly.

( _Saving my life was a mistake? Making me Robin was a mistake?)_

Bruce didn't respond. Jason felt his lip curl. Their fights always escalated to this. If Bruce didn't have to look at him, then he could say whatever he wanted and it wouldn't matter because it was like Jason wasn't even there.

But this time? This time it was different. Jason wasn't about to be ignored. He could feel the anger pounding in his head, his chest, and his broken ankle.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I made some mistakes that last mission, but guess what—I'm still here. I'm still  _alive,_ which is a lot more than you can say for the other one. _"_  Bruce glanced up with a sharp inhale, staring at Jason as if he were seeing him for the first time during their conversation. "And you can try to bury me or protect me or whatever the hell this is—" Jason gestured towards the sealed display case with a jerk of his hand "—all you want, but it still won't bring Grayson back. He's gone, but that doesn't mean you have to drive everyone else away too!"

Before he could see Bruce's reaction, Jason spun around and raced back up the stairs, nearly colliding with a startled Alfred in his desperation to get away.

(He  _had_  to get away from Bruce, from the ghost of  _him,_ forever haunting Jason. _)_

Instead of bringing him to his bedroom or outside for fresh air, Jason's furious footsteps took him to Grayson's room. He took a deep breath before slipping inside, knowing he would never be disturbed in here.

He rolled his eyes as he reached for the lights switch. Grayson's room was akin to a shrine. He wouldn't be surprised if any form of blasphemy against the first Robin while in this room would be punishable by a bolt of lightning or a plague of batarangs.

Jason frowned as he took in the lightly dusted books and the neatly laundered bed spread. Of all the rooms in the manor he could have fled to for respite and to lick his wounds, he wondered what had possessed him to come here. He narrowed his eyes at the hanging photographs and mounted plaques—another reminder of Grayson's indisputable charm and skill that didn't do a damn thing except get him killed—and turned away.

_Maybe I shouldn't have come here. It'll just make me angrier._

Jason turned to leave but hesitated when his hand reached the door knob. Wasn't that the reason for him to come here though? To get angry? To vent out the frustration building in his fists?

He eyed the faded circus poster over Grayson's bed, noting how easily it would shred in his hands. It would be so satisfying to destroy everything in this room and—

He sighed and shook his head. Maybe he would have been this spiteful when he was on the streets, but he couldn't bear to imagine Alfred's heartbroken expression when he came in to dust.

(He didn't give a damn about what Bruce would think.)

Still, he knew he couldn't leave without making some sort of mark, even if just to prove to himself that he was a Robin too. He eyed the stack of books on the desk. Feeling a bit like a mischievous cat, he pushed the middle of the stack until several books toppled off the edge and into the floor.

_Wait, one didn't fall._

He reached for the last book, already ruminating on the possibilities of what he could do to it, but he hesitated when he saw the title.

"Well..." Jason shook his head with a dry laugh. "Would you look at that? Of all the books,  _Robin Hood_  survived the fall."

He tilted the book, admiring the shiny red letters in the lamp light.

_Hood, huh?_

* * *

When the doorbell rang, Alfred wasn't sure what to expect, because he knew they certainly weren't expecting guests. His confusion only mounted when he noticed the rusted bike propped against one of the decorative gargoyles and the bike's rider was waiting at the front door, a pocket-sized notebook in hand.

"Hello," Alfred started slowly, scanning his visitor from his raggedy tennis shoes to his oversized jacket. "How may I help you?"

The boy smiled, flipping open his notebook. "I was hoping to ask Mister Wayne a few questions about one of his previous philanthropic endeavors."

Alfred's smile grew fonder. It was just an overzealous school reporter, he supposed. "I'm afraid Mister Wayne is unavailable at the moment. However, if you are interested in his business affairs, I can provide you with the contact information for one of his managers. I'm sure Lucius would love to speak with you."

"Umm, I appreciate it, but I was hoping to talk to Mister Wayne about something specific." The boy glanced to the side, his lips pulling into a pucker. "It's not exactly business related."

"What did you want to speak to him about again? Something about the Wayne Foundation?"

"Not quite. I wanted to ask about the orphan that he took in."

Alfred nodded slowly, hand creeping towards the door as he mentally rehearsed his best conversation ender. "Ah, I'm afraid Mister Wayne is too busy and Master Jason spends most of his time elsewhere. I'm afraid that won't be possible for you to speak with either of them today."

The boy's eyes glinted. "I wasn't talking about Jason Todd. I want to talk about Richard Grayson, about how he disappeared."

Alfred kept his expression impassive, but his grip on the door tightened. "I don't believe I caught your name, Mister uh…?"

His smile broadened. "Tim. Tim Drake."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. We'll meet Timmy and Dami in the next chapter before returning to your regularly scheduled YJ story.
> 
> Also, I'm lowkey livid that ((KINDA SPOILERS)) YJ introduced a certain member of the SuperClan in today's episodes literally hours before I posted this chapter. I can't believe they beat me to it. However, as you'll see in future chapters, Jon will actually be old enough to participate and not just sit there and gurgle.


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